


For His Own Good

by Black_piano_keys



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spanking used as discipline in workplaces, Caring, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Father Figures, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Over the Knee, Paternal Instinct, Punishment, Spanking, Spanking - Punished in front of others, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_piano_keys/pseuds/Black_piano_keys
Summary: Bright risks his life one too many times, so Gil decides it's time to teach him a lesson.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30
Collections: Id Pro Quo 2020





	For His Own Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [collartothewind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/collartothewind/gifts).



Malcolm knocked on Gil’s door and opened it.

“Sit down,” Gil snapped.

He was obviously still angry about what happened that morning when they’d closed in on Jackson Klein. They’d caught him, nobody got hurt, so all was well that ended well. He’d expected Gil to be put out with him briefly, but this seemed more than that. 

“If this is about—”

“It is.” Gil turned in his chair so he was facing sideways, not looking at Malcolm. “I had to let some time pass to calm down and collect myself before we had this conversation. What happened this morning, Bright, isn’t going to happen again on my watch.”

“Gil, I’m sorry, but we got him.”

Gil didn’t move. His expression didn’t change. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, but—”

“Did you hear what I said?”

Malcolm swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“You put yourself directly in harm’s way this morning, needlessly, the way you seem to have made an unfortunate habit of doing.”

It hadn’t been needlessly, had it, if that meant they got a killer off the street? “It unsettled him when I stepped up to him like that, Gil. It was a move he didn’t expect. We might not have—”

“You will never again throw yourself into the line of fire the way you did this morning. I’m not asking, and I don’t want your explanations. I want you to understand what I’m saying to you, Bright. Because if anything like that happens again, I will never bring you in on another case in this precinct.”

He knew Gil would be angry, but this reaction was unexpected. Gil _couldn’t_ shut him out. “I need these cases.”

Gil finally met his gaze. “I know. And I’ll take them away from you if you ever pull a stunt like that again. I’ll make sure no precinct I get in touch with will want you anywhere near a murder. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

Gil’s narrowed eyes, the firm set of his jaw, made it clear that he meant every word. 

“I understand what you’re saying. But I don’t understand your reaction. I’m _fine_ , Gil.”

Gil shot out of the chair and rounded the desk to stand in front of Malcolm. He glared down and crossed his arms. “You could have gotten yourself killed today. You didn’t stop to think there might be another way, but offered yourself up as a . . . sacrifice to get it done.”

Gil closed his eyes and wiped a hand down his face. “You’re not going to kill yourself on one of my cases.”

Malcolm dropped his gaze to focus on the desk behind Gil. “Is that what you think? that I have some kind of death wish?”

“I don’t know!” Gil sat on the corner of his desk. “Do you?”

“No! Remember the mine?”

Gil shot him a look that said _how the hell could I forget_? 

“I would have waited until everyone was clear and simply let go of it if I had a death wish. Instead, I jumped out the window.” Malcolm realized that his explanation didn’t sound much better when Gil smirked and tilted his head. “Okay, maybe not the perfect example, but I gave myself a chance by jumping, didn’t I?”

Gil took a deep breath. “Yes, but sometimes you do act as if what happens to you doesn’t matter as long as we solve the case. What would you be feeling right now if Dani had been the one to walk up to Klein and press her forehead to the muzzle of his gun?”

If he’d had to watch Dani do that, he wouldn’t have been able to breathe until she was safe. And then he’d be . . . livid. “I—”

“Bright, you act like your life isn’t as valuable as other people’s. And it is. I’m telling you, it is. Do you know what it would do to me to lose you like that? What it would do to Dani and J.T.? Stop throwing yourself on everything you think might be a grenade. Think of what it would do to your mom and your sister, if nothing else.”

Malcolm’s throat tightened. “Okay. I’m—I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

Malcolm narrowed his eyes at Gil. “ _Yes_. I’ll be more mindful in the future.”

“I know you will be. Because you’re not going to forget this anytime soon.” Gil said that with such confidence, Malcolm sensed a shoe was about to drop. “Stand up,” Gil said. Then he opened his office door. “J.T., Dani, come in here for a few minutes.”

Malcolm moved to leave, but Gil put a hand on his chest. “Not yet,” he said, gently pushing him back. He obviously wanted to yell at him in front of Dani and J.T., maybe let them yell at him too, in the hopes that Malcolm wouldn’t do anything like that again. If it made them all feel better, Malcolm was willing to put up with it. 

Dani and J.T. sat in the chairs across from Gil’s desk without a word, like they’d planned what was happening and knew their part in it. Malcolm sighed and waited for the upbraiding to begin. But Gil simply said, “Over my lap or over the desk. I’ll let you choose.”

Malcolm blinked, his breath coming out in a soft laugh. “What?”

“Bend over my lap or the desk. Choose or I’ll choose for you.” Gil’s arms were crossed, his eyes still sharp with what Malcolm recognized as fatherly concern. _Furious_ fatherly concern.

Over his lap? Was Gil talking about _spanking_ him? “You . . . can’t do that.”

* * *

“Oh, yes. I absolutely can,” Gil said. 

The wide-eyed innocence on Bright’s face said it all. This situation was completely foreign to him. Gil had wondered if he’d been punished before at work. He’d been fired from the FBI, so he’d bucked their authority plenty in his time there and should be as familiar with the standard punishment for insubordination as he was familiar with strapping himself into the bed at night or popping pills in the morning.

“Bright,” Gil said, “you’ve really never done this before?”

Bright’s mouth dropped open and his head twitched more than shook. “Of course not.”

“How in the hell did you spend that long in the FBI, pissing them off to the point they eventually fired you, without it?”

“I—I don’t know. But they never did it. The worst thing they ever did was fire me.” Bright glanced at J.T. and Dani, as if looking for help. Maybe he wanted them to appeal to Gil on his behalf and ask him not to go through with it. 

Gil hid his smile when Dani cocked an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms. She’d walked off by herself for a few minutes after Bright’s stunt and come back with red-rimmed eyes. J.T. didn’t let his emotions show that much, but Gil knew him. He’d been affected, too. He glared as unwaveringly as Dani. 

Suddenly Gil understood how Malcolm had escaped this for years working for the feds. Probably the same way he’d escaped it for years at home. He’d probably never done anything wrong enough to earn a spanking when he was little. Then Jessica probably never raised a hand to him after Gil took his father out in handcuffs. 

Malcolm hadn’t spoken for months after Dr. Whitly was arrested, and had all sorts of scars where nobody could see. Everyone felt sorry for him, so they’d probably never punished him. 

And that’s why he didn’t think twice before putting his own head under an axe. All the pity people used to justify letting him get away with things hadn’t done him any favors. And Gil was about to make sure that stopped. Now. 

Gil didn’t want to make any of Bright’s emotional problems worse. But he and Jackie had been sort of surrogate parents to him as he grew up and had a strong connection with him. Knew him better than almost anybody. More than ever he was sure Bright needed this kind of discipline. 

No matter how troubled a child might be, you don’t let them repeatedly put their hand on a hot stove burner. Sometimes you have to inflict a little pain and embarrassment to save them from themselves. 

“My lap,” he said, when Malcolm seemed incapable of making the decision for himself. He pulled his desk chair to the end of the desk so J.T. and Dani had a good view, sat on the edge of his chair so the arms wouldn’t be in the way, spread his knees apart, and waited. 

Bright went pale. “You’re seriously going to . . . do this.”

“Yes. For your own good. Or you don’t work for me anymore, Bright. It’s that simple.”

For a moment, Gil thought he’d miscalculated and Bright would turn and walk out of the precinct forever. But he approached, face slack with wide eyes, and lowered himself slowly. Gil helped him down so that his chest and stomach lay across Gil’s thighs. 

Gil gently slapped his behind through his pants. “Dani, if you did something as reckless as Bright did this morning, would I let you keep your pants up while I did it?”

“Nope,” she said, pursing her lips. 

Malcolm snapped his head to look at her. “You want me to take—”

“Drop trou, Bright,” Dani said, both eyebrows high on her forehead. 

“No. No, I’m not going to do that.” Bright started to rise up, a tremble in his voice. “Look, I said I won’t do anything like this again. I don’t know what more you want.”

“I want you to take care of yourself,” Dani said angrily. “I want you to not risk yourself like that again.” She smirked harder, to keep her lips from trembling, Gil thought. 

J.T. rubbed his chin. “Bright, you’re a weird little dude, and you’re annoying. A lot. But I’d rather you annoy me every day than you make me have to go to your damn fancy funeral.”

That was J.T.’s equivalent of _I care about you and don’t want you to get hurt._

“We’ve all seen asses before yours,” J.T. added, then gestured toward their desks outside Gil’s office. “My coffee’s gettin’ cold, man.”

Bright relaxed and didn’t push himself up as he stared at them, maybe resigned to it. So Gil tugged at Malcolm’s belt loop. “I need to be sure you’ll feel it and won’t forget it. Because I care about you, too, and if I don’t do this and you pulled another stunt like today, and weren’t lucky enough to walk away from it . . . I don’t want to have to carry that kind of guilt.”

“I won’t do it again,” Bright whispered.

“I need to make sure. I don’t want to deliver that kind of news to your mother.” Gil rested his hand gently on Bright’s lower back and spoke softer. “ _I_ don’t want to have to mourn you, kid.”

Bright’s heart pounded against his legs. He hesitated so long, Gil wondered if he’d pushed too hard and would drive him to get up and leave. But Bright carefully undid his slacks and let them drop to his knees. Progress, but not good enough. 

He had to make sure this punishment was going to achieve the goal Gil had for it. But he also didn’t want to do any harm. 

“Are you okay?” he asked Bright. 

“No. This is _not_ okay.” Bright’s voice sounded strained, but not like Gil had heard it when he was truly on the edge. 

“Is your hand shaking, kid?”

He felt Malcolm’s sharp inhale, saw him lift it up and stare at it. “No,” Bright said, sounding surprised.

“All right, then.” Gil hooked his fingers into the waistband of Bright’s underwear and pulled them down. 

* * *

Malcolm couldn’t take a breath at first, embarrassment making his face burn. It was bad enough to have his ass bared that way by Gil to start with, even if they’d been alone, but in front of J.T.? In front of Dani?

“Gil, I can’t do this,” he warned, but Gil pressed firmly on his lower back. 

“You can. Because if you get up, you’re done here. I’m not bluffing, Bright.”

Malcolm knew he wasn’t bluffing. At the same time he wasn’t sure he could handle this, J.T. and Dani watching him whipped like a child. His nakedness and the position over Gil’s lap made his whole body feel flushed with embarrassment. For them to see him _spanked_ . . . 

He looked at his hand again and marveled at its steadiness when his insides were jumping with nervousness. But it was a different kind of feeling. Not panic, not the kind of nervous anticipation he was used to. Maybe Gil was right that he could deal with this. 

“I’ll start when you’re ready,” Gil said, no hint of anger in his voice now. 

He was trying to make this as easy on Malcolm as possible, letting him have some measure of control during this new situation. Malcolm appreciated that, so he took a deep breath and willed himself to relax. “Let’s get this over with.”

Gil’s sharp exhale was followed by a hard smack across his ass. It stung more than Malcolm thought it would. His insides clenched in surprise, braced for the next one, his muscles tight to ward off the sting of the next blow. At least five seconds passed before the second smack came. 

What was it going to be? Twenty smacks, maybe thirty before he’d get up, act properly chastised and full of regret and then go home and on with his day? The embarrassment burned, but he’d get over it. He didn’t look at Dani or J.T. Couldn’t. 

If Malcolm was good at anything besides profiling, it was recovering from embarrassment. He was used to looking foolish in front of people and having people whisper about him behind his back. He could handle this. Would handle it, eventually. Though maybe he’d spend tomorrow and the next day at home, licking his wounds, before he could face them again.

The third smack caught him off guard because it took longer than the second, and it stung so much worse. Smacks four, five and six came rapid-fire, each harder than the one before. 

“You will not take unnecessary risks,” Gil said with the next blow, one sharp and stinging enough Malcolm closed his eyes. “Correct?”

Another word Malcolm wasn’t sure he agreed with. _Unnecessary. Needlessly_

“What?” Gil said. “I can feel you tensing up.”

“It . . . didn’t _seem_ unnecessary at the time.”

“It was. Clearly you need to learn to distinguish between necessary and unnecessary risks, don’t you? This may help.” Three more stinging smacks jarred Malcolm’s body forward. “This risk was unnecessary. You won’t do it again. Say it.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“You will protect yourself the way you would protect someone else.” A hard smack. “Say it.”

“I will protect myself the way I would”—Gil’s hand pulled an involuntary grunt from him when it struck him—”protect someone else.”

“Good. Your hand shaking?”

If he lied and said yes, would Gil stop? Probably, because the things that made Malcolm’s hand shake were not knowing what had happened before his father had been arrested, and visceral fear. Malcolm couldn’t bear to let Gil think he’d caused any of those feelings, no matter how badly he wanted this to end.

“Bright? Your hand.”

“Not shaking.” He gritted his teeth together as more sharp smacks rained down on him. 

* * *

When Bright hadn’t answered right away, Gil feared he was about to say _yes, his hand was shaking_ , and he’d have to stop, hating himself for causing a reaction anything like Dr. Whitly had caused. But despite the spanking, Bright’s hand was steady. 

His stinging hand rested on Bright’s ass, the skin beneath it hot from the blows. He gently stroked the reddened skin and spoke softly. 

“Your hand isn’t shaking because you obviously need this,” Gil said. “Have probably needed it for years.” 

Malcolm shuddered, and after one final, gentle stroke, Gil stopped. He bit back any thoughts he might have had about the boy—the man—spread across his lap, and how right it felt to have Malcolm’s bare skin under his hand. 

He didn’t let himself feel guilty for having the thoughts, but he crumpled them up like a letter full of typos and tossed it away. Their relationship had clear boundaries he wouldn’t cross. Bright needed him to be a caring, firm hand, like a father. Nothing more. 

Gil lifted his hand and brought it down again. His palm stung with each blow, but he didn’t let up. Spanking slowly at first, then fast, varying the speed so Bright would never know exactly when the next one would come .

“Mark my words, kid, I won’t hesitate to do this again when you screw up. As many times as it takes to get things through to you.” He’d been too easy on Bright, like everybody else, when what the kid still needed from him was discipline, like a father would dole out. He’d make this a lesson Bright wouldn’t soon forget. 

He paused. Was making up for the years Bright wasn’t subjected to the same punishments as other people really a wise choice? Would it be too much at once and possibly damage something fragile inside him?

“Are you going to do something like this again?”

“No,” Bright said through closed teeth. Then softer, defiantly, “Not if it’s _unnecessary_.”

Gil fought back the smile that wanted to appear. He was doing the right thing. Bright knew he was usually the smartest person in the room with the most insight into their cases. And everyone around him knew he was the richest. And probably the most troubled. 

He was also one of the most stubborn people Gil had ever known. When it came to this—Bright risking his life without thinking it through, without calling for backup, without following proper protocols—he’d be the most likely to do it again because he would decide what was necessary and what wasn’t, no matter what anybody else said. 

Gil had to take him down a notch right now, push him to a minor breaking point, in the hopes of dulling that defiant, headstrong urge inside him. 

Three hard smacks barely drew a surprised grunt from Bright. 

It wouldn’t be easy. Gil’s hand would probably be as tender as Bright’s ass by tomorrow, but he was determined to protect Bright from himself one way or another. He wasn’t sure he’d go this far when he started, but after the tone in Bright’s voice just then, Gil knew he wouldn’t stop anytime soon. 

How many times had he seen Bright’s hand shake, his expression gone glassy with some memory that haunted him and brought tears to his eyes? Gil was going to be the reason for the tears in Bright’s eyes this time, but he was going to put them there for a damn good reason. 

* * *

Gil’s hand seared his ass again and again, harder since the last question than before. Malcolm started flinching away from the blows. They came steady for a while, then with pauses between. He’d brace for the next, and the moment he relaxed, thinking it wouldn’t come, his ass was lit up again. 

The embarrassment of being bare-assed and spanked over Gil’s lap was bad enough, but the genuine pain of each smack was growing in intensity. It hurt far worse than he could have imagined. And he had no idea how much longer it would go on, which made it even worse. 

He wanted to ask _how much more_ but had a feeling that would only ensure the answer would be _a lot_. 

He shuddered when Gil’s hand stopped and soothed his skin. He wanted to sit in Girl's lap, rest his head on the man’s shoulder and have that hand stroke up and down his back. He wanted other things from Gil—too many things—and sometimes that got jumbled up in the things he wished about his father, so he always shut those thoughts down as quickly as they came. 

Laying across his lap made it more difficult to shut out those thoughts, especially with Gil’s hand stroking over his burning skin then disciplining him in a way his own father never had. 

Malcolm took a deep breath and grabbed Gil’s pant leg near his ankle with the sense of needing to cling to him, to hang on. Two more smacks, and he almost cried out _stop!_ but squeezed his eyes shut and hung on. 

“ _You can take it_ ,” his father’s voice echoed in his head as if he was the one doling out his punishment. “ _That’s my boy_.”

Like so many times in his life, Gil seemed to sense what might be going on in Malcolm’s head and pulled him back from it. “Focus on this, Bright. Me, you, my hand, your coworkers in the room as witnesses. Stay present and learn from it.”

Malcolm tried, and the next hard smack punched a sound out of him like a sob. He left his mouth hang open and blinked back tears. 

“Are you going to risk yourself like that again?” _Smack, smack, smack._

“N-no.” 

Gil sighed. “I don’t believe you.”

Malcolm’s ass was on fire, and Gil kept at him. 

“Your hand, Bright. Hold it up.”

Malcolm held his hand up. Not even a hint of a tremble. The next blow came before he’d lowered it, hard enough that Malcolm did cry out in surprise. Tears blurred his vision. “I won’t do it again,” he gasped, another sob escaping him.

“What’s that?” Gil asked. “Convince me,” Gil said. “Look at your coworkers and tell them this time.”

As Gil struck blow after blow, Malcolm turned his head and sniffed, his face as hot as his backside as tears ran down his cheeks and dripped off his chin. “I won’t do it again,” he said, his voice breaking. 

Dani’s eyes shone with tears. She wiped at her cheek with her knuckle and said, “Good.” And when Gil said, “Okay,” she and J.T. left the room. 

Malcolm sighed and slumped in relief, head hanging. The next smack caught him off guard. “I said I wouldn’t do it again,” he groaned. How much longer would this go on?

“I heard you. Now, I want you to ask me to stop.”

Gil wanted him to give in that much, so much that he would beg the man to stop spanking him? In the time it took for that to sink in, two more searing smacks set his ass on fire again. 

“Malcolm,” Gil’s voice came soft, followed by the hardest smack yet. “Tell me you won’t do it again. Then ask me to stop, and I promise I will.”

“I won’t do it again,” he sobbed out, squirming against Gil’s legs to try to angle himself in a way that made each blow less sharp.

“Good. That’s good.” But he kept a slow rhythm of smacks. 

“ _Gil,_ ” Malcolm said, the word coming out strangled. He wanted Gil to stop, so why couldn’t he just give in and ask?

“You’re in complete control of this now, Malcolm. All you have to do is say it.”

Malcolm made a sound like a frightened animal with each of the next three blows, until finally the words wrenched themselves free. “ _Please, stop!_ ’”

And Gil, true to his word in a way he always had been, did. The hand on his ass didn’t lift again, and his other hand rested on the back of his neck.

Something inside Malcolm gave way, and his breath caught in a sob. Despite the fact that his ass burned from being spanked, in front of his friends, and that he still lay like a child across Gil’s lap, he felt as safe and as cared for in that moment as he ever had in his life. 

He closed his eyes and let himself cry, sobs shaking his body.

Gil’s hand moved from the back of his neck to rub across his upper back. “That’s good, kid. You did good.”

After a stroke of Gil’s hand over Malcolm’s burning skin, Gil pulled his underwear up and kept rubbing his back until Malcolm’s sobs stopped. He tried to smooth the material of Gil’s pant legs at his ankles where he’d gripped tight enough to wrinkle it. 

“Can I get up now?” Malcolm whispered. 

“Of course.” Gil pulled his hands back, and Malcolm straightened, a little unsteadily at first. He pulled his pants up, still sniffing. Gil rose and stood in front of him. 

“You understand why I had to do this, don’t you?”

Malcolm couldn’t meet his eyes, but he nodded while he fastened his trousers. He did. He still didn’t like it, but he understood. 

“Hey.” Gil’s hand cupped the back of his neck, squeezing gently. “Look at me, kid.”

Malcolm did, a fresh batch of tears blurring Gil’s face. “I care about you. We all do. I think we care about you more than _you_ do sometimes, and that’s what none of us can stand.”

Gil wiped tears from Malcolm’s cheeks with gentle fingers and smiled at him for the first time since they’d gotten back from the crime scene. “Don’t make us—don’t make _me_ —have to do this job without you? Not like that. Don’t let me down, college boy.”

Malcolm stared into the eyes of the man who’d saved him from himself so many times as he was growing up, his throat tightening again. “Okay.” 

Gil pulled him into a hug, stroking his back and kneading the back of his neck. “Hey, remember, even when I have to whip your ass, you still make me so damn proud.” Gil’s voice came out tight, and Malcolm hugged him harder, the humiliation and pain of what just happened fading compared to how safe and cared for he felt in that moment. 

“Go home, Bright. Take a couple of days. Relax.” Gil held his shoulders and grinned at him. “But don’t think I won’t turn you over my knee the minute you walk through that door if you mess up again.”

“Thanks, Gil,” he said, and he meant it. As he walked out of Gil’s office, he stared at his hand, still steady and solid. 

His cheeks burned as Dani and J.T. looked his way. He managed to give them a quick nod. They probably wouldn’t let him live the experience down for a while. He’d get used to that. Maybe he’d manage to joke about it with them, eventually. 

He headed home, feeling closer to okay than he had in a long time.


End file.
